Beautiful Suffocation
by narcissmy
Summary: I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t think; and it was the most beautiful suffocation ever. Set in Breaking Dawn - Bella and Edward are on their honeymoon. A light is shone where Stephanie Meyer faded to black... Edward's POV


**Title:** Beautiful Suffocation  
**Author:** Narcissmy  
**Fandom:** Twilight  
**Pairing:** Bella/Edward  
**Rating:** NC-17  
**Warnings:** None.  
**Disclaimer:** All Stephanie's, baby.  
**Summary:** I couldn't breathe, I couldn't think; and it was the most beautiful suffocation ever. Set in Breaking Dawn - Bella and Edward are on their honeymoon. A light is shone where Stephanie Meyer faded to black... Edward's POV

Warmth, light and life. I watched her blush slightly, the blood pooling beneath her skin. I caught my breath, mostly at her beauty, but also because of the rush of her scent that would come with it. I was completely adverse to the feeling of wanting to rip her beautiful throat out now, but it still haunted me that if I allowed myself the pleasure-pain of inhaling her scent for too long, I would become animalistic, and lose control of my urges. She was surely too fragile to do this? How could she possibly withstand all the excess force that I was fully prepared for.

What I was not surprised in was the insane amount of confidence she had in me, the faith she gifted me with that I did not deserve. How did she know that everything would be fine when I could feel it in my gut. The moment would be pleasurable, but the following morning, or possibly during our little second experiment, we would have to attend to the ramifications. The implications of our love. Maybe they were there already. Maybe a pure indication of my reckless nature on her was the fact that she was already married at eighteen, and perfectly willing to give herself to me; me, the monster. Me, the vampire, who would as soon as kill her if I were just like the others. She'd tell me, if she knew what I was thinking, that I wasn't like the others. None of the Cullens were. Carlisle had faith in me too. No doubt he expected the occasional hiccough, but he had faith that I would be careful with her. How could I destroy that faith so completely and still go through with this? Her father had also entrusted her to me. What about if I crushed her? Dead, gone. Who else would Charlie look to blame? We were on this island on our own. There was no-one here, other than me, to explain away the damage.

Sighing, she pressed her lips to mine softly. Obviously, she was discontented that I had been momentarily distracted enough to roll away from her on the huge, bed in the blue room. It was beautiful (Even compared to the white gossamer creation in the next, feather filled room), and it was providing an ample resting place after the swimming we'd done and the exhaustion of the previous night. I could feel her pulsing so enticingly to the side of me, there in the dark water had almost been too much to bare. I was currently undecided as to what was more distracting; her semi naked state (Or was it naked…Alice's lingerie taste wasn't very…modest), or the scent of her blood and person hanging in the air between us. She gazed at me quizzically, at the sub-conscious distance I had put between us.

"What's the matter?"

I tightened my jaw, closing my eyes so I didn't have to look at her. If I could cry, I would, at the unfairness of it all. The unjust!

"Nothing's the matter." I forced out, but when I peeled one eye open, she was looking comically stern. I knew exactly that she was about to remind me of my promise to her. Her hand was splayed across the base of my back, spanning a rather small area.

"You promised." I had been psychic, for a brief moment of time. I fought with myself not to smile.

"I made good on my promise, we did it, and you saw the results."

My skin was cold against hers usually, which meant she had to be hidden from view, usually cocooned in some kind of shawl. Now, she was bare to me, everything was bare. I was not sure whether that was something she'd use to her advantage or not. If she tried that tactic, I was practically powerless to resist. I had never seen her like this before. Never. She looked so…breathtakingly perfect. And she was mine. And I was seriously considering not claiming my prize. I didn't like to think of her as a possession, but she looked so simply wonderful that she could not be considered a part of everyday life. She had to be some kind of reward, though for what, I did not know. From what I had gathered, what I had accomplished in my seventeen years upon the earth had not been enough to deserve someone like her. She was flawless. Or flawed perfectly, as the case may have been. She he had become distracted from our discussion and was running her hand lightly over my stomach muscles, which twitched beneath her finger. She looked curious, once more, testing my resolve by judging my bodily inclinations. I closed my eyes once more, refusing to peel the lids open to witness the grievance of it all. She looked so perfect, right beside of me, that I wondered how she could ever stop looking at herself.

In my reverie of feeling sorry for myself, I didn't notice her shuffle closer, closing the distance I had put between us. This was unusual, and showed my distraction within my distress. I was a vampire, with increasingly honed senses, and Bella was hardly the most graceful of people. For me to not notice her moving a couple of inches was incredibly disheartening. I felt her, the steady thrum of her blood against the surface of her skin. When she pressed her lips to some point below my navel I was taken off guard completely by the feel of her hot mouth against my alabaster skin. This was not my usual Bella. She was not retiring around me, but she was usually submissive. I marvelled slightly and squirmed again as the passage of her tongue moved up my chest.

"Bella. This isn't fair play." But my hand was already laced in her hair and pulling her up my chest to my lips, always careful, just so I didn't crush her with my urgency. Her lips were soft against mine as she pressed kiss after kiss to my jaw, neck and lips.

"Do you promise to try again?" She asked, in between kisses. Her breathing was ragged, and her chest heaved unsteadily to the side of mine, bodies wedged together like some divine jigsaw.

"Bella. It's…too dangerous." Her mouth became silent and unresponsive against my own, unmoving, and she rolled away from me. I didn't understand why she took this so personally, when she knew perfectly well that I wasn't doing this because I didn't find her attractive. With a somewhat resolute sigh, she turned her back to me and climbed under the covers, hiding her body ensconced in the soft black lace material beneath the silk eiderdown. I would have head butted the bed frame for my stupidity and selfishness, had I not thought I would break the bed. After the pillow incident, we had already mangled one room, there was no need to move the destruction into a separate area of the house. Resolutely, I rolled onto my back and stared at the ceiling, having managed to torture myself yet again.

***

She was crying. I wouldn't have believed that anyone could express so much grief, and heart break when awaking from sleep. Her chest heaved in random, excessive spasms. Her face was contorted, and she seemed almost as confused as I was as to why she was experiencing such a random attack of such pain, and grief. My primary instinct was to gather her up into my arms, but she had somehow become ensconced in the ironic safety of my embrace during her restless slumber. I stroked a dark strand away from her face, wondering what on earth could have distressed her so much within a dream to have convinced her, well, to have made her believe in it so readily. She was obviously deeply moved by whatever tricks of the mind her brain had conjured up.

Of course, my attempts at comforting her were limited. She simply needed, if I was reading her emotions correctly (Dammit, why couldn't I read her mind?), the comfort of me with my arms around her. She was pressing herself against me in a manner that was entirely too seductive to be fair. She had no idea how erotic watching her sleep could be. The gentle rise and fall of her abdomen, luminescent in the light of the moon. Her round pert bottom when she had rolled away from me for a brief period of time, barely concealed by the sheer fabric that made up her nightgown. I chuckled softly at her logic, when she explained why waking up had been a definite bad point in her opinion. I was not prepared for her grief, but I was completely flabbergasted by the arousal that propelled her to press her lips against mine with a carnal urge that had me panting. My throat screamed in urgency, yet my hands slid to her firm backside, sliding lower until they cupped the backs of her thighs, firm in my hold.

I pulled away, unable to communicate why stopping was a very good idea, and yet my worst nightmare all at once.

"Bella, bella." She was not paying attention, she had moved her lips to that spot behind my ear which caused my focus to slip a little. Her scent was all around me, and already my sensitive nose was picking up the pheromones pulsing away from her body. I growled lowly.

"Bella, wait."

She pulled back from me, impatient and annoyed. The straight white teeth picked at her bottom lip, suckling it into her mouth in her petulance.

"What now, Edward? I'm sick of waiting." She made to roll away, and I didn't stop her. Instead, I slipped off my shirt effortlessly and pressed the full length of myself against her back.

"I just need to go slowly, Bella. Let me adore you."

I planted a soft, patient kiss at the side of her neck, before running my ice cold tongue along the length of her neck and shoulder. She shuddered in pleasure and pressed against me. I turned her over with reverence, the night gown she was wearing becoming a large source of irritation. She may just have well been naked, for I could see almost every sinuous curve through the thin, gossamer fabric. My breath quickened in my chest once more, and at the sound she listed towards me, her pelvis twisting ever so slightly in my direction, eking me out. I was unaware that her night gown had ripped, or rather I had ripped her nightgown, until I heard the soft rip of the silk, and felt the two long strips in either hand; strips that were soon discarded, pushed to the foot of the bed.

I had unveiled her a couple of nights ago, and yet, she was still so virginally beautiful. Her perfection was that which was so sheer and untouched; undisturbed. She did not possess large breasts, or a concave stomach, but what she did have looked soft and inviting. I found solace in her few flaws; it meant she was not like me. She had life in her soul and breath in her body. She was not yet a member of the marble undead, meaning that I still had time to enjoy her like this, unchanged, soft, warm. Although I could be so much less cautious when she was changed, for now, I would take the caution and her inviting silkiness in her heated, alabaster skin. So unmarred, so perfect. So unbelievably mine.

I raised my hand, tracing it down the side of her body, splaying it across her abdomen. Drinking her in. I wanted to gather her up in my arms, all of her and then some. When I tip toed my fingers up her rib cage, she whimpered slightly in anticipation, and when my cool hand closed around a round, pert breast she pushed towards me with urgency, chasing my mouth with teasing, open-mouthed kisses that breathed warm air into me. For a minimal amount of time, briefly before she pressed her lips to mine fully and her breath invaded my mouth; I was alive. My kisses were reverent and lingering as I trailed my icy ardour down her neck. I pressed a kiss to the hollow of her throat (So deliciously tempting that I scraped my teeth against her skin gently, extracting a whimper which I stole from her lips with my own), the valley between her breasts, the hollow to the side of her hip bone. I was aware of my ragged breathing, cold against the surface of her skin, pulsing with excitement. My breath coaxed goose bumps to pimple on her skin, and her nipples to become erect, begging for my mouth to envelop them.

When I suckled at her lightly, carefully, she wound her hands into my copper hair and pulled my head to her breast, as if I was swirling my tongue around her very soul. I was teasing myself more than her, I was sure, but her abdomen dipped more harshly now, and her soft murmurs of 'please', reached my ears. So incredibly placated, but ever wanting more. Revealing that to plead was the way in which to melt me had not been my finest hour, and her pleas melted me, until I was so malleable that she had parted her sweet thighs for me and drawn me between them. The closer proximity, yet again, brought with it a rush of new scents, and the most intimate sense of her that there was. If I had not been denying myself for my entire time with her, maybe I would have indulged her. Instead, I dropped kisses to the inside of her thighs and her lower abdomen, before positioning myself at her interest and thrusting into her.

Her answering moan was low and prolonged, it caught in her throat, as if she was trying to hold it in, before finally spilling out over her lips and into the space between us. Maybe I would have joined her in this production of noise, but I was truly speechless at the feel of her around me. Hot, smooth, silk. The moistness between her legs was accommodating, and welcoming. It enveloped me, dragged me into her, deeper and deeper inside of her until I was drowning. With each thrust, and each whimper or moan I extracted, I was wading deeper into the water. She was pushing her hips against mine with an insistency that the first night had lacked. She had been anxious then, her pleasure had been illusive. Now, she was throwing herself into it, head first, chasing after the climax she craved so desperately. This time, she knew what she was looking for, and she was not going to stop until she captured it.

And every time she pulled me closer to her, brought my head back to her breast, or my hand to possessively cup her thigh, she brought me back from attempting to resist her. She wove herself around me until I was knitted in. She urgently pulled my hand between her legs, gasping when my fingers found the nub it had found a few nights ago and toying with it teasingly. When she finally contracted against me, she looked at me with the most devastatingly beautiful expression I had ever seen on a young woman in my whole one hundred and eight years on this Earth. Her forehead was creased slightly, mouth slightly open, framing her ecstasy, and her eyes glistened with tears. Of gratitude, of hurt? I had no idea. All I knew is that resistance was futile. She was everywhere, her scent, her touch. The gentle coaxing of my pleasure as she smoothed my hair back from my forehead, and raked her nails down the length of my back. I was finally letting myself go, letting myself fall into the blackness of hell. I had violated her again; I had robbed her of her innocence for the second time. I was corrupting her - and yet, I didn't care.

I couldn't breathe, I couldn't think; and it was the most beautiful suffocation ever.


End file.
